Too Generous Doctor Heads West To
Find New Life & New Wife
...a note from history
In
the year 1850, Dr. David Swinton Maynard found himself in Lorain
County, Ohio, with an unhappy marriage and a mountain of bills to
pay. Most of his money problems arose from the fact that he was
reluctant to collect from patients, and he was also more than
generous in trying to help others financially.
Maynard was 42 years old in 1850, when he decided it was time for a
change of scene - alone. He headed west, at first bound for
California. He took with him an aged mule to ride on, the clothes on
his back, a buffalo robe, his doctor’s bag of instruments, lots of
various colored pills and a couple of books.
Joining one of the wagon caravans, he started along the trail west.
Business was brisk, even along the way. There was plenty of disease
in his particular wagon train. By Fort Kearney, there was an
outbreak of cholera.
By
the time Maynard reached the wagon where the cholera was reported,
one occupant was already dead; three more passed away before
morning. This left a new widow alone to cope with the wagon, the
oxen and a couple of cows. Maynard’s medical report does not mention
that she was also very attractive.
The
doctor elected himself protector of the widow, Catherine Broshears.
He “transferred his duds to the widow’s wagon,” tied his mule on
behind, and thus headed the same way she was, to join her brother in
Olympia, Washington.
By
the time Maynard delivered Catherine to her brother, he was in love,
and the widow seemed to have forgotten her husband buried along the
trail. Maynard also found he loved the Puget Sound country. The
situation turned sticky, however, when Catherine’s brother found out
there was already a wife n Ohio.
Doctoring also did not go well in Olympia. The healthy outdoor life
seemed to agree with the settlers, and there was very little
illness. After an abortive effort to be a shopkeeper and faced with
the continued enmity of the brother, Maynard headed north to join
the settlement at Elliott Bay.
With
a salmon-packing scheme in mind, Maynard opened up a one-room store
on the east side of the bay near the waterfront. He was an immediate
success in the new settlement, and for a time was one of its
wealthiest persons,. However, once again in his efforts to help
others, he ended up with very few resources to help himself.
Anything that looked good for what would become Seattle, he did.
He
established a blacksmith shop and sold it to a newcomer for ten
dollars. He gave away two lots to Methodist missionaries, on their
assurance they would build on them immediately. Another lot he sold
for twenty dollars, on the promise that the buyer would build a
residence on it.
Maynard also made frequent trips to Olympia to see the Widow Bro
shears. On one of these trips, he persuaded the territorial
legislature to grant him a divorce from his wife, Lydia, in Ohio.
The legislature saw no reason not to grant this request. While they
were at it, they made him justice of the peace and notary public.
With
all this taken care of, Maynard hurried to Seattle, cleaned up his
living quarters and returned to Olympia to marry Catherine. The
wedding was a quiet one, undisturbed by Catherine’s brother and his
shotgun.
Eight days after their return to Seattle, Maynard himself, as
justice of the peace, conducted Seattle’s first wedding, marrying
David Denny to Louisa Boren.
Life
in Seattle soon became difficult for Maynard and his wife. He had
always been a friend of the Indians, and as trouble between the
settlers and the Indians developed, he did what he could to protect
the Indians. This caused a great deal of animosity to develop.
And
once again, he found himself deeply in debt; as before, it was
caused primarily by an over-generosity.
On
top if it all, he began drinking more and more heavily, until
eventually he became a confirmed alcoholic. As this occurred,
however, his friends came back and he found himself once again a
popular fellow.
Basically, Dr. David Maynard never changed. One of his last acts was
to give a piece of property to Seattle’s first Masonic Lodge. The
members wanted to establish a graveyard, and the doctor thought this
an excellent idea.
His
funeral in 1873 was the largest ever held in the town, but the
burial was as unorthodox as might have been predicted. A long
procession led up from Yesler’s Pavilion, where the body had been
laid in state, up the steep primitive streets and around the fir and
cedar stumps blocking the way. The destination was a tool house near
the new cemetery. Maynard had to rest in his wooden coffin for a few
days in the tool house until the Masonic ground could be properly
dedicated. Probably old Doc Maynard, who had given his best to
Seattle and even provided the name for the new town, would have felt
amused at this one last obstacle that was placed in his path.
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